Page 49 of The Christmas Letters
But how obvious could it be when I haven’t thought about Max once tonight?
But Ihaveto think about Max. I can’t just throw away the connection we have, even for someone as intoxicating as Drew.
“Tess, it really is okay for you to choose Drew,” Chloe says.
I nod, knowing she’s right, but the thought leaves me feeling itchy and incomplete. If I don’t see this thing through with Max, thenot knowingwill kill me.
I owe it to both of us to meet him in person.
I just have to hope my heart will know what to do.
Chapter Fifteen
Drew
It’sjustpastelevenwhen I use my keys to let myself into Grandma Pearl’s. I find her in the living room, sitting in her favorite chair, Roxie curled up at her feet. One of those Hallmark Christmas movies is playing on the television, but she doesn’t look like she’s paying it much attention. She’s leaning back, her eyes closed, one hand resting on her chest.
I crouch down in front of her and softly nudge her shoulder, placing the small medical bag I keep in my truck at my feet. “Gran?”
She rouses quickly, blinking up at me through watery eyes. Her pupils look normal, and her focus is sharp, both encouraging signs. “Drew? What are you doing here?” she says. “What time is it?”
“After eleven,” I say. “How are you feeling?”
She frowns. “Oh, bother. Fine enough that you didn’t need to come all the way out here to check on me.”
“You texted me four times,” I say.
“And I told you I’ll go to my doctor tomorrow,” she says. “I was just a little dizzy, but I’m better now.” She looks around the room, then gives her head a tiny nod. “Much better. The room isn’t spinning at all.”
“When was the last time you ate, Gran?” I reach for my bag and pull out a blood pressure cuff. She frowns as I take her blood pressure, then spend a minute listening to her breath sounds. Her lungs sound good, but her blood pressure is a little higher than normal. Not too high, but high for her.
I pull out my glucometer to test her blood sugar and reach for her hand. We’ve been down this road before, so she doesn’t protest as I prick her finger and get a reading.
“I haven’t eaten since lunch,” Gran says, the knowing tone of her voice telling me she’s finally guessing, like I am, why she was dizzy earlier. Sure enough, her blood glucose level is dangerously low.
“Stay right here, all right? I’m going to get you a snack.”
Half an hour later, the color has returned to Grandma Pearl’s face, her insulin levels have stabilized, and she seems to be feeling much better. But I’m still uneasy. This isn’t the first time she’s forgotten to eat. It also isn’t the first time I’ve thought about moving home so I can keep a better eye on her. At eighty-seven, she’s pretty spry. But I don’t like that she spends so much time alone.
Gran wouldn’t like it though. It would irritate her to think she’s pulling me away from my own life. But that’s not how I’d feel about it at all. She’s as big a part of my life as anyone or anything else.
“I hope I didn’t ruin your evening,” Gran says. She takes a long sip of the lavender tea I brewed for her as soon as she finished her snack. She always has lavender tea before bed.
“Not at all,” I say, thinking back on those final moments with Tess.
If I had any doubts about my pen pal’s identity before, those doubts are long gone now. Tess’s job and her plans to start business school in January were more than enough confirmation.
When Tess first told me she was the one answering the Santa letters, my brain searched for every possible explanation. Someone else foundmyletter before Tess was given the rest of the letters. My letter was never even with the other letters. It was just buried in a drawer somewhere or in the corner of someone’s attic. My letter went to some other organization that answers letters to Santa and never had anything to do with Tess.
But too many pieces fit together. And the longer we were together tonight, the more confident I felt. But the school thing, that was the final piece I needed to know for sure.
It’s her. It was all I could not to lean forward and kiss her the second the words were out of her mouth.
“Goodness, Drew. You better tell me what’s making you smile like that,” Grandma Pearl says.
I run a hand across my jaw, wiping off the smile I didn’t even realize had taken over my face. But why shouldn’t I tell Gran what’s happening? If there’s anyone who will appreciate the story, it’s her. “Are you too tired for a story?”
“Is there kissing?” she asks. “I like kissing stories the most.”
